Courtney Cole - Before We Fall

“Who the hell does that kid think he is?” he grumbles to me. Or maybe to himself, because he doesn’t even look up at me as he drops heavily into his office chair. “I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if he’s famous. I’m only going through your orientation one time. If he’s not here in five minutes, we’ll start without him and he can just go someplace else to do his time.”

Joe looks at me sternly now, his steely blue eyes firm. “I don’t put up with laziness or tardiness, Ms. Vincent. You should know that right now.”

“Yes, sir,” I stammer. For some reason, he just seems like a person I should address as sir. He smiles though, for the first time since I met him. It crinkles the corners of his eyes and spreads to the rest of his face, lighting up his wrinkles.

“Sir. Ha! That’s a good one. Sir was my father. Or my drill sergeant back when I was in the Army. I’m just Joe, young lady.”

Finally. Something to break the ice with him. Relief washes over me.

“You were in the Army?” I grab at that straw quickly, before he changes the subject and the topic gets away from me. I don’t want to go back to staring at the clock, waiting for Dominic in uncomfortable silence. “My brother was, too. He was a Ranger. He just got a Medal of Honor, as a matter of fact.”

Joe stares at me now, sufficiently impressed and curious.

“You don’t say? That’s impressive. It takes a lot to get one of those. What did he do?”

“His Humvee got bombed in Afghanistan, and according to the president, he acted with extreme valor in the face of peril, above and beyond the call of duty. Basically, he risked his own ass to save someone else’s.”

“You don’t get more salt of the earth than that, missy,” Joe drawls sincerely, nodding. “You should take some pointers from your brother. What does he think about you being here?”

My shoulders slump at the mere thought of what Gabe thinks about it, and Joe laughs.

“That bad, huh?”

I smile and he smiles back. Thank god. The ice has definitely been broken.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me, his tone softening just a bit. “My bark is worse than my bite, as long as you stay on the straight and narrow and do your job. These kids here…”

He pauses, staring out the window of his door at the teenagers punching at bags out in the sweaty gym.

“They don’t have much, see? If they don’t come here, they would get into trouble on the streets. And I don’t want that. It’s our job to keep them on the straight and narrow. To do that, you’ve got to be there, too. Capisce ?”

I nod quickly. “Joe, seriously, this is the first time I’ve ever been in trouble. That pot wasn’t even mine…” But Joe holds up his hand.

“That’s not my business,” he tells me. “My business is just making sure that you don’t get into trouble again. You hear?”

He’s stern again, and I know I’m back at an arm’s length with him. He’s going to be a tough nut to crack, and I’m going to have to earn his respect, but I just get the feeling that deep down he’s a good guy. A nice guy. I saw a glimpse of warmth in those eyes a minute ago. Plus, he dedicates his life to helping troubled teens. That’s got to mean something.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

The voice comes from behind me, freezing me in my chair.

Dominic.

I would know that voice anywhere now. Husky and low. Arrogant and dark. I don’t know why I think a voice can be dark, all I know is his just is. His voice hints at dark things.

I turn in my chair to find him lingering in the door, looking like he just stepped from the big screen into this tiny office. He’s bigger than life, even here. He doesn’t look at me; instead his gaze is fixed on Joe.

He’s got an arrogant, sexy attitude that completely fills up whatever room he’s in. And even though he’s saying he’s sorry, he doesn’t look one bit apologetic. He doesn’t offer even one tiny explanation for his tardiness, either.

Joe stares at him.

“The next time you’re late, don’t bother coming in at all,” Joes tells him gruffly. “Have as much respect for me and my boys here as you do for yourself and we’ll all get along nicely. If you can’t do that, get the hell out the same way you came in.”

Dominic looks at him calmly. “Noted.”

Joe stares at him, his blue eyes meeting Dominic’s green. Neither looks away for a minute, until Joe breaks the gaze and looks at me.

“This one’s got balls,” he tells me, nodding. “Just wait til I break ’em.”

I giggle and Dominic stares at me in disdain.

His gaze doesn’t stray to my cheek where I have a bruise, and it doesn’t meet my eyes. He also doesn’t bother himself to comment. That’s one thing that’s clear about Dominic Kinkaide. He isn’t going to go out of his way for much.

“Listen up,” Joe tells us, snapping me out of thinking about Dominic. “I don’t have much to say, other than what happens here with the kids stays here. These kids have rough home lives, and they don’t need you spreading talk about them outside of this gym. You’re here to help them in any way you can. Be a mentor. Show them that there is life outside of trouble. Think you can do that?”

I nod.

“It’s pretty simple here. Don’t be late. Don’t mess up. Don’t make their lives harder than they already are. Do some good. What you put out into the world, it comes back to you. Got it?”

I nod again, but Dominic sits silent and still.

Joe turns to him. “All right, since you were late, your job today will be to empty all the spit cans from around the boxing rings. Take them into the locker room, dump them out, rinse the cans, and put them back.”

Dominic stares at him. “You can’t be serious.”

Oh, but he’s serious. There’s not a hint of a smile on Joe’s face now.

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious. Don’t be late again, or—”

“Or don’t bother showing up,” Dominic interrupts, as he heads for the door. “Yeah, I got it.” He walks out without another word and Joe looks at me.

“Your friend might not last long here.”

I stare after Dominic, at his wide shoulders striding away from us. He’s tall and lean, drop-dead gorgeous and proud as hell. “He’s not my friend,” I finally answer softly. “I barely know him.”

But I have the feeling that’s about to change. What I don’t know… is how I feel about that.

Dominic

After I dump the disgusting cans of old spit down the even more disgusting bathroom sinks, I take them back out to the gym, pausing for a minute as I stare at Jacey. As much as I hate to give her attention, it’s hard not to notice her here, especially when she’s thrust herself in the middle of a group of at-risk kids and her face is pressed into a punching bag as one of the boys punches at it.

Especially when I walk past her and she smells like apples, crisp and clean.

She’s as out of place in this dirty sweatbox as anyone I’ve ever seen.

She’s got that girl-next-door quality that is so underrated among women. They all want to be glamorous bombshells, overly made-up and too sexed out. But even though Jacey is wearing makeup and short workout shorts, she’s the classic girl next door, even if that’s not her goal.

I bend and replace a spit can next to one of her toned legs, and she glances down at me, her eyes warm and sparkling.

For a minute, there’s something in her expression, something mischievous, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just braces for another punch from the gigantic kid pummeling the bag she’s holding. It’s taking all of her weight to hold it still, but she’s doing it. I can’t help but be impressed.